


Through the looking glass(es)

by jasmasson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: salt_burn_porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/pseuds/jasmasson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d got a reaction from Sam like he hadn’t got since he’d washed the Impala shirtless on a particularly hot day a few summers ago, and then decided to have a cherry Popsicle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the looking glass(es)

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://community.livejournal.com/salt_burn_porn/profile)[**salt_burn_porn**](http://community.livejournal.com/salt_burn_porn/) for [](http://wendy.livejournal.com/profile)[**wendy**](http://wendy.livejournal.com/) 's prompt _reading in bed_

***

When Sam concentrated, he was totally focussed.

Dean remembered the feeling of being the focus of all Sam’s attention – and how awesome that was, not that Dean ever said so – but that hadn’t happened for a while.

The obscure, ancient book Bobby had uncovered about the ‘end of days’ had taken all of Sam’s attention for the past three days. It was in Latin, roughly the size of a phonebook, and had become attached to Sam’s hand.

Sam was currently reading the book in bed, having ignored Dean’s suggestion of blowjobs and beer.

Sam being Satan’s vessel really didn’t make Dean want to disown him as a brother at all, but _turning down blowjobs_ to _read_ was just _wrong_.

Dean glared at Sam, but Sam didn’t notice. Sam wouldn’t notice if Dean dressed in drag and did the hula.

Hmm.

Dean went over to his duffle and rifled through it, finding the items in a side pocket.

He’d got them in order to infiltrate an office for a few days, posing as an IRS agent. It had been a whim – he’d meant to wear them as a joke, even – but he’d never got out of the motel wearing them because he’d got a reaction from Sam like he hadn’t got since he’d washed the Impala shirtless on a particularly hot day a few summers ago, and then decided to have a cherry Popsicle.

Dean was wearing a white tee and boxers, and he figured that would do rather than changing into the suit he wore for impersonating FBI – and IRS – agents.

Dean came over to the bed and settled down beside Sam. Sam shifted over absently, without looking up.

“Let me read some,” Dean said, tugging at the book gently. “Give you a break.”

“Deean,” Sam began, doubtless about to say something about how he could read Latin four times faster than Dean. “I…”

But he didn’t finish whatever he was about to say.

Dean pulled the book from Sam’s suddenly slack grip.

He deliberately resettled the glasses on his nose, and looked over at the open page. It made no sense to him at all. He licked his lips, before looking up at Sam.

“Where did you get to?” he asked, innocently.

Sam was staring at him, mouth slightly open.

Dean suppressed a smile.

He bit his lip as he looked down at the book again, running his hand slowly, suggestively down the page.

The book was pulled carelessly out of his hands and thrown on the floor.

Dean looked up, attempting wide-eyed and innocent – and pretty sure he was missing it by a mile.

“Sam!” he said, matching Sam’s tone and words when Dean had apparently come too close to the precious book with his coffee that morning. “Be careful. It’s _irreplaceable_.”

Sam… really didn’t care, apparently, as he manhandled Dean onto his back, on the bed. The lenses were just clear glass, so Dean could see Sam clearly; the heat in his eyes, the wolfish smile on his face.

Sam’s hands, which had been totally preoccupied with the book, came up to move over Dean’s face, brushing the glasses with his knuckles as he touched Dean’s cheek and then moved down to his mouth.

Dean sucked Sam’s fingers into his mouth, and Sam’s eyes went darker with lust.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam said, and with his other hand awkwardly yanked Dean’s boxers down.

Sam seemed unable to take his eyes off of Dean’s face, where Dean’s lips were sucking Sam’s fingers, probably looking a little incongruous next to the prim looking glasses perched on Dean’s nose.

He still managed to find Dean’s dick quickly enough without looking, and Dean groaned around Sam’s fingers as he felt Sam’s hand on his cock for the first time in _far too many_ days.

Sam was definitely not messing about, going straight for goal, working his hand over Dean’s cock hard, fast and just too dry – rough, just like Dean liked it – and Dean made a whiny noise around Sam’s fingers and came hard and quick as Sam watched his face avidly.

“Jesus, fuck,” Sam said harshly, pulling his fingers out from Dean’s mouth while Dean was still dazed from his orgasm. “Jesus fuck, _suck me_.”

Sam more-or-less pushed Dean off the bed, just taking the time to steady him on his knees, before pulling his dick out.

Dean was feeling pretty smug, pleased with the desperate, hungry look in Sam’s eyes. He should definitely make Sam beg, because usually it was Dean wanting sex eight times out of ten, and Sam wasn’t always terribly cooperative, but then Sam’s cock – huge, hard and red – was pushing at Dean’s lips, and, well, Dean wasn’t an _idiot_.

He sucked Sam into his mouth, looking up through the glasses at Sam’s face, and Sam moaned, arching and closing his eyes, as he thrust his dick into Dean’s mouth, but he opened his eyes again quickly, seemingly still not wanting to take his eyes off Dean’s face.

Dean relaxed and let Sam thrust his dick in and out, moving his tongue and sucking as best he could, but Sam wanted control, fucking Dean’s mouth, watching his dick slide between Dean’s swollen lips.

“Fucking… mouth,” Sam muttered, doing just that. “Fucking… _face_.” And then he pulled out.

He worked his hand over his spit-slick dick furiously for a moment before coming over Dean’s face with a groan.

***

Dean wiped at his face with his hand and wrinkled his nose.

“You got _come_ on my glasses,” he said, pulling them off and looking with some disgust at the sticky white on the lenses.

Sam laughed, collapsing carelessly back on the bed. “Looks good on you, though. I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you wear them outside.”

Dean flipped Sam off.

He looked down and smirked.

“And you got come on the book.”

“ _Fuck_!”

***

If you'd like to comment - and if you do you have my eternal gratitude - please feel free to comment here or on [this fic at livejournal where it was originally posted ](http://jasmasson.livejournal.com/129931.html) as you prefer.


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